Fools And Lovers
by Thennowandalways
Summary: Men are idiots, without exception, she thought as she felt him smile against her lips. I'll just have to do the thinking for both of us.


**Fools And Lovers**

It was strange, Remus reflected, how time slowed down when your best friends fist was flying towards your face. Of course the two were interlinked, time slowed down so he had time to reflect. Or maybe...

SMACK

Well the pain was certainly instantaneous, he thought, as he crashed into the kitchen work top.

"I can't believe you hit me." He stared at his friend with baleful eyes.

"Well I can't believe you had sex with Hermione. I guess we're both full of surprises today aren't we?" Sirius retorted as he fished around in the freezer.

"You're lucky the boys don't know."

"I know."

"They'd string you up for this."

"I know."

"And you'd deserve it."

"I know."

"You seem know an awful lot Remus." Sirius drawled as he crossed the kitchen towards his friend. "So it remains a constant mystery to me how you manage to be such an EMOTIONAL FUCKWIT."

He leant down to offer Remus his hand and hauled him to his feet before handing him a towel full of ice.

"Here, use this. It'll help."

Remus gingerly placed the freezing ice against his rapidly swelling face and ran his other hand through his hair with a deep, depressed sigh.

"I'm an idiot."

"True."

"I just don't think sometimes."

"True."

"She'll hate me."

"True."

"Sirius!"

Remus' plea was met with nothing more than a glare from his oldest friend.

"What? Not being helpful? Funnily enough I am not that inclined to help you right now; I'm seriously considering throwing you to the wolves... as it were." He smirked at his own pun.

"Funny. Come on Sirius, you know..." Remus wasn't even sure how he was going to defend himself, but he need not have bothered, Sirius never gave him the chance to finish.

"I know what? I know she's a lovely girl? I know she doesn't sleep around? I know she's had a crush on you for years? What do I know Remus? Oh, how about this one, I know there are things that you do and things that you don't and Hermione Granger is right up top on the list of things that you don't."

He looked at his friend with thinly veiled disgust, and Remus felt his heart sink into his boots. This had never been what he wanted, it hadn't been what he planned. Actually there wasn't really a plan involved at all, more a rash, hormone led decision which, it was clear, was going to come back to seriously kick him in the arse.

Remus leaned back in his chair, and stretched the arm which wasn't nursing his face above his head. He couldn't help but wince at the feel of his muscles screaming in protest, they hadn't been given such a work out in quite some time.

Remus also caught the slight smirk on his friend's face. Sirius knew exactly what the wince was about and he couldn't help the small smile. They both felt the atmosphere lift slightly and Sirius even went so far as to feel a small pang of sympathy as Remus leaned his head onto the table.

"Merlin." He whispered, quickly followed by "Shit," as his tender cheek hit the hard oak.

"Fuck, Sirius. That really hurts."

"Yeah, well... there it is." Sirius responded with a wink.

"Yep, there it is."

They sat in silence for a moment before Sirius summoned a bottle of whiskey and, Remus couldn't fail to notice, just the one glass.

He watched his friend pour himself a large glass and before he'd even had chance to ask for one he'd gotten his answer.

"No mate, you don't get to drink, you get to tell me what the hell happened."

**********************************

Remus had been mooching around Diagon Alley, as usual, he'd done a lot of mooching recently. In fact he'd done a lot of feeling sorry for himself, bemoaning the day he'd ever met her, wondering where exactly he'd gone wrong and if she'd ever actually loved him to begin with, or how much he had actually loved her for that matter. He'd also burned his tux, around thirty place settings and a recently made exhaustive list of all the reasons why Nymphadora Tonks was an incredible bitch and Remus was lucky to be rid of her. The last one was courtesy of Sirius and a bucket of whiskey.

Mostly though, he'd been mooching. Just as he was now.

This afternoon was slightly different though, it was a chilly Spring day, the birds were singing, and somewhere in the back of his addled mind he was beginning to wonder if there might actually be life after being left at the altar.

And there she was, looking as fresh as the day itself, and as different from Dora as it was possible to be. And all of a sudden a day in Hermione's company seemed like the very thing to keep his spirits lifted.

They'd always been friends, and she'd been a willing shoulder for him to lean on in his 'hour of need' as she liked to call it. But today he wanted fun and smiles, and all the things he used to look to her for, back before that horrible day.

And fun they'd had. They'd walked through Muggle London, away from the stares and gossip. They had poked fun at the tourists in Trafalgar Square and shared a pint outside the Tate Modern while he'd listened to her rant at the completely pointless crap, or 'art', inside the building. He loved watching her rant about something or other, her soft cheeks would take on the sweetest pink tinge and her eyes, always bright, would positively beam with light.

But it was her use of words that always struck him the most. She was so eloquent in her criticism, articulating each and every last point with a wave of her hand and turn of phrase which always left him smiling.

For a moment he tried to remember if he'd ever shared conversations like this with Dora? They'd had fun, yes, but it had been on her level, not his. They'd never shared the same interests really. He supposed that after the first initial flush of lust and laughter they had really only shared the pressure of everyone else's expectations.

They had walked through Hyde Park and admired the courage, and insanity, of the swimmers in the lake while they buried themselves in their warm clothing and sought out the first petals as the flowers came to life.

And somewhere between the bandstand and the rose garden he'd felt his cock twitch when he looked at her. Where they were exactly he couldn't say, but he did know that the light shining behind her made her hair look ever more insane than usual, and that he had a brief moment to appreciate the fact that her arse was just about perfect.

That was all it took really, to alter the way he looked at her. That and a couple of pints he supposed. As they sat in a quiet, quirky London pub and watched the sun set across the river he'd stolen every secret glance he could. He noted her lips, how they looked so soft and supple. He let his eyes run over the swell of breasts he'd never quite noticed appearing, and wondered how he could have missed such a perfect addition to an already lovely girl.

She was twenty-four now. Twenty-four and counting and he realised he'd never really joined up the dots. The boys, oh he'd noticed them grow up alright, had watched them attempt to shag their way round half the Witch population after the dust of the war had settled. But somehow he'd missed Hermione's big coming out party. When had she started to notice men rather than boys? When had men started to notice her? Why did the thought of a man doing more than notice her make him clench his fist slightly under the table?

Where exactly had he been during all of this?

Oh, of course. He'd been busy, wrapped in a relationship which had once seemed the herald his salvation. Now of course, it just made him bitter. Even though he had begun to suspect that Dora had done the right thing he couldn't quite let his pride forgive her for leaving it until the last possible moment. She'd waited until he'd finally persuaded himself that this was the right thing to do and then left him standing there in front of everyone, like an idiot.

Either way, all he knew was that when Hermione had gently placed her hand over his and asked if he wanted to come back to her flat for a nightcap he understood exactly what she really meant.

And at the time it had seemed like the sensible thing to do. Or if not the sensible thing, at least the thing which would make him happy, make him feel whole again, make him back into a man.

Well he wasn't feeling much like a man now was he? More like a callous bastard who'd used a lovely girl like Hermione to persuade himself that there was hope for the future.

Anyway, back to the sordid details.

There had been nothing gentle about the way he'd pushed her against the hallway wall as soon as they'd arrived at her apartment.

No, nothing gentle at all. He'd grasped at her almost desperately and crashed his mouth into hers in a bruising kiss. Of course he'd had a moment of clarity and pulled back in shock, but it had only been a moment. As soon as he'd moved away from her she'd virtually leapt at him and their tongues were exploring each other's with passion and heat. All rational thought left him then.

All he could think about was the warmth of her skin, the feel of her soft body against his, hard muscle against delicious curves. He mustered enough thought to wonder if her arse felt quite as good as it looked, and then lost the ability to think again as he discovered it quite possibly felt even better, as he squeezed her with large, hungry hands.

He'd had the wherewithal to think that the bedroom would be a better place, to know that he would rather be looking at her spread across cotton sheets where he could really appreciate her then thrust up against the wall in a tangle of half removed clothing.

And when he'd laid her down and ripped her bra from her he'd had time to congratulate himself on his thinking, she was, of course, an incredible sight. Of course he hadn't quite managed to take the time to wonder if the straps of her bra had stung her young skin as he pulled it off her, or to ponder the chance that perhaps, just perhaps, her wide eyes and ecstatic moans suggested that this might mean a little bit more to her then it did to him.

But what did it mean to him? As he'd captured her left nipple between his teeth and experimented with just how she liked to be licked and nibbled he found he didn't really have the time to ask himself the serious questions. Instead he'd focused on how many buttons it took to undo her skirt, where she'd been hiding these delectable legs, and if the feelings brought about by the sight of her damp underwear and milky white thighs were the same feelings a home cooked meal would inspire in a starving man?

When she had crawled her way down his now naked body he'd seen the appreciation in her eyes and had, at least, had the chance to remember that he'd never seen anyone look at him in quite that way. When she took him in her mouth he wondered why Dora had never seemed to enjoy this quite that much. And when he returned the favour, revelling in her sighs and exultations; _"don't stop... Remus, don't ever stop," _he'd taken a second to realise that no one else had ever tasted quite this good.

But then he was inside her, and it was hard and furious and perfect. She had met him thrust for thrust, squeezing her legs around his waist before allowing him to lay slim ankle over his shoulder as he pushed _"harder, deeper, faster, please." _

And she'd enjoyed it just as much as he had, the scratches on his back and bite mark on his shoulder would attest to that.

And the next time...

"Wait? It wasn't just the once?"

"Um, no."

No, it wasn't just the once. It was over and over again until the sun came up and the carefully constructed little walls he'd built to shelter him from reality had come crashing down.

She'd taken the initiative and pinned him down, teasing him until he begged and then complying without question as he flipped her over and took her from behind.

She'd offered him a cheeky smile when she came back from the kitchen with a glass of water, hips swinging and breasts bouncing, gloriously unashamed of her own body. Why was it Dora was always covered in sheets or hiding behind t-shirts? That small smile had been all it took to have him reaching for her again, laughing with her as she tumbled down on to the bed, wet and ready for him.

She'd been ready for him all night, and he'd been insatiable. He could feel his body complaining now and shuddered at how she must be feeling. He'd made it his own personal mission to take her in every way possible. He'd never let up, never let her rest, and she'd been there with him all night, just as eager, just as hungry for his touch as he was for hers.

That was something else he hadn't given himself chance to appreciate; the touch of her hands. He remembered the feel of her skin under his hands, the taste of her on his lips, the way she felt so hot and tight around him. But he hadn't realised at the time just how much her touches exited him in return. She knew when to be soft and when to be rough, how to tease him or torture him in the sweetest of ways.

But now he remembered every little detail. He remembered how she paid such close attention to his bottom lip as they kissed, how her hands grasped at his shoulders and her breath tickled his ear, sending a shiver straight through him.

He remembered how he'd felt in the face of her need for him. How thrilled he'd been to be wanted so much after long months of excuses and half hearted attempts to regain the passion long since departed.

He remembered how her lips had looked as she knelt before him, pink and wet and delicious, and he remembered how the scent of her had made his mouth water and his senses kick into overdrive.

He remembered it all now. And it made him feel like shit.

He could picture the face he'd tried so hard not to see as he'd made his excuses and left with the dawn. Eyes wide and pleading and that beautiful bottom lip trembling just a little. He could hear the confusion in her voice as he'd scrambled for his clothes.

"_You're leaving? That's it?"_

"_Yes, I'm sorry... I can't... I have to go."_

And he remembered how she had turned away from him as he bent to offer her a kiss, one pathetic attempt to make her feel less like she'd spent the night as nothing more than a distraction for him. He'd known then that he'd made a horrible, unforgivable mistake. And that knowledge had brought him here, to Grimmauld Place, in the hopes that his oldest friend could see any glimmer of hope in amidst the mess that he'd created.

***********************************

"Oh shit."

No hope here then.

"Yes, quite."

"Bloody Hell Remus, you've just had the best night of your sodding life and you're sitting here with me?"

"Yes... wait, what?"

Sirius stared at him open mouthed, as if he was nothing short of completely mental.

"Did you actually process one little thought as you were telling me that story? Did your tiny, ridiculously inadequate brain take on board a single thing you just said? Have you absolutely no concept of what a lucky bastard you are?"

"Well of course, but no, Sirius... hang on... _what?"_

His second, apparently inane, question in two minutes earned him a hearty smack in the face.

"For fucks sake Sirius, will you please stop hitting me?"

"No, you need it. The first one was a punishment for being such a cock, this one was an attempt to knock some sense into you. Honestly, you really have no idea what I mean, do you?"

Remus shook his head in confusion as he tentatively removed the ice bag from his face and carefully felt his cheekbone, looking for any permanent damage.

"Relax, Remus. You're not broken, just a little sprained. And slightly deficient if you ask me. Answer me some questions, yes?"

Remus nodded in agreement.

"You had fun during the day? A lot of fun?"

"Yes."

"More fun than you had with Tonks in Merlin knows how long?"

"Yes."

"You have more in common with Hermione? She lets you be who you are, yes?"

"Yes, but..."

"No buts, I'm not finished. You clearly fancy the pants off her."

"Well she's stunning, what's not to like?"

"Agreed. The sex was good?"

"No, it was amazing, it was..." Remus tailed off and his eyes shot up to meet the grey, slightly mocking ones of his best friend.

"Starting to dawn on you is it?"

"Oh... but I didn't think... I just assumed..."

"You just assumed that because it wasn't planned, because you didn't spend days and weeks and months pining away after her, that because you panicked in the morning and ran away like a twat rather than talking to her, because of all of those things I take it you assumed it didn't mean anything?"

"Oh my gods. I didn't... I..."

Sirius was almost enjoying himself now, he rarely saw Remus quite so lost for words. Almost enjoying himself, but not quite. He'd seen how devastated Remus had been at the failure of his relationship with Tonks, for whatever reasons. He knew that his ability to trust had taken a battering along with his confidence. He also knew that he'd be a lucky man if he met someone that inspired the same reverent worship he'd heard in Remus' voice as he'd described his experiences last night. He didn't think Remus was even conscious of the tone of his voice when he described her, or the smile on his face as he'd launched into her attack on modern art. And he knew just how firmly Hermione had held his friend in her heart, and for just how long. She was in love with him, she always had been, and if given the chance she would prove herself his perfect match.

This was an opportunity for his friend, one which might be the best thing that had ever happened to him by the sounds of it, and his job now was to ensure that the blundering idiot of a werewolf in front of him didn't fuck it up more than he had already.

"You didn't give yourself a chance Remus. You went from nought to sixty in no time flat and when the sun came up you panicked and ran. Have you had chance to think about it? You said you feel horrible about leaving?"

"Awful, it's killing me."

"Do you think there might be a small chance that's because you shouldn't have left."

"Of course, I shouldn't have left I..."

"No, no, I don't mean that, I mean do you think there's a chance that the reason you feel quite so bad is that you wish you were still there, with her?"

Remus stared at him, comprehension slowly, very slowly, dawning across his features.

"Do you think, Remus, that perhaps last night happened just the way it should have done, that the only thing wrong with it was this morning? Do you think that maybe, just maybe, our little Hermione could be the best thing that ever happened to you?"

And there it was, realisation.

"Oh holy mother of Merlin... what do I do? What can I do? She'll hate me, she'll never let me talk to her."

"You don't know that."

"What are you doing, Sirius? I thought you'd be cross," he ran his hand ruefully across his jaw, "you were cross."

"Yes, I was cross. I was cross when I thought that you'd essentially just used Hermione to jack off and that you were going to spend the rest of your life avoiding her. Now I'm not cross, I'm hopeful. But I promise you this old friend," he said with a wink and a slow smile, "if you don't fix this, I'm telling the boys."

Remus almost flinched at the thought.

"And then you'll know what cross is."

And so now here he was, less mooching this time, more pacing. He'd been pacing for a good ten minutes and sooner or later he was going to have to make a choice; cut and run and spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder in fear of a furious freckled face and the deep disappointment shining out from green eyes under a lightning scar, or face her and take what he deserved in the hopes of making good on his actions last night. Sirius was right of course, he usually was. People called him the clever one but he was clearly a fool who couldn't see what was staring him in the face. She'd been there, she'd cared for him and he'd welcomed her cares and her attentions. He'd enjoyed their time together without fail, through the good and the bad, and last night had been a revelation. A revelation he'd never stopped to listen to.

Well he'd have to listen now, to whatever hurt and anger she wanted to throw at him. As he finally pressed down on the door bell he knew he would listen, and when she was finished he would try everything he could to make her listen to him in return.

"Are you taking the piss?"

And it was starting now.

"Hermione, I'm..."

"Get out."

"I'm not in, I'm on the doorstep, look I..."

"I don't care, get out of my flat, out of my street and out of my life."

The door was quickly closing in his face and in a last ditch attempt to buy himself some time he thrust his hand through the small gap, just in time to hear a crunch as the heavy wood closed in on his fingers.

"Fuck, ow, gods... this is turning out to be a hell of a day."

That caught her attention at least.

"Oh? So sorry, I'm having a wonderful morning, how rude of me to ruin yours. Now fuck off."

He hadn't heard her swear before and unbelievably he felt himself getting turned on by those coarse words formed by such a sweet little mouth.

_Inappropriate Remus, inappropriate. _His better self screamed at him.

"Please, Hermione, please," he was begging now, and he saw her pause as she walked away from him.

"Please hear me out, if you don't like what I've got to say I'll leave. I know I don't deserve it, I know I am the king of idiot bastards right now, but please, please let me talk to you."

She turned back towards him, shoulders squared and eyes cold, and for one awful moment he thought she was going to close the door in his face again. Instead...

"Well you're making marginally more sense then you did this morning. I'll give you ten minutes."

And he'd used every one of those ten minutes. He'd begged and pleaded her forgiveness in every way he knew how.

"I didn't realise what it meant to me, last night..."

"... panicked, like a fool..."

"Didn't think, never think things through..."

"... a perfect day, such perfect night..."

"... would do it differently, not last night, just this morning..."

And through it all she'd stood straight, with her arms folded and her eyes following him around the room as he paced. She hadn't moved a muscle, Merlin, he wasn't sure if she'd even blinked. She'd simply stood and watched him as he ranted at her, building himself up into such a state that in the end he had almost nothing left to give. He had one try, just one last try in him, and if that failed he was heading for the door, again.

"Look, Hermione, I'll never be the most romantic of souls. I fuck up all my relationships and I'm sure if you give me chance I'll do my best to fuck this up as well, already have really. I have nothing to offer you but myself, and I can see how right now that doesn't seem like much. But I know what I felt last night, and I know how you looked at me and how we were, together. I thought falling for someone meant hours and days of turmoil and realisation, I thought it was a slow burn, a journey if you like. I didn't realise that something that happened so quickly could be so right. Most of all I know that if you let me, I'll do everything I can to prove just how right this does feel to me, and how sorry I am for leaving you in any doubt of my feelings for you. I didn't realise them myself you see, not really, and by the time I did, well... only you can tell me if it's too late."

And that was it, and still there was only silence. He felt his shoulders sag as he turned towards the door, he made every step last forever in the hope that it would give her chance to speak up, to stop him leaving. When his hand touched the door knob he knew he'd lost, and he'd lost much more than just this battle, he'd lost a chance, a real chance, at loving someone wonderful. Just how was he going to live with that knowledge?

The door knob felt almost slippery under his hand and he realised just how tightly he'd been clenching his fist through all of this, trying everything to stop himself reaching out for her until he knew she wanted it. And now he knew she didn't."

"What happened to your face?"

Five little words and it felt like his heart might leap from his chest. He turned to face her, looking her right in the eye even though every instinct in his body was trying to force him to train his gaze on the carpet at her feet.

"Sirius punched me."

She smirked as she walked towards him, lifting a hand to run it down his cheek as he stood wide eyed and motionless in front of her.

"Good."

"Hermione, really, I..."

Her lips on his broke his train of thought as well as his sentence, he was aware of every part of his body delighting in the feel of her so close, and he promised himself that if he got another chance to be with her, he would take notice of every moment.

"Shhh..."

As Remus leaned down to kiss her again Hermione let herself believe, for the first time today, that there really might be a chance for them.

_Men are idiots, without exception, _she thought as she felt him smile against her lips.

_I'll just have to do the thinking for both of us._


End file.
